


Cherry Blossom

by benji_writes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22836346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benji_writes/pseuds/benji_writes
Summary: You and Bucky finally find the love you deserve. Underneath the cherry blossoms, everything is beautiful.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Cherry Blossom

**Author's Note:**

> What the two of them find is a fantastical real life dream of mine. I hope you find it as beautiful as I do.

He sat on the steps of the back porch. She sat beside him. He hated that this place was so quiet now. It wasn’t supposed to be. It never was before. He looked over at the woman sat beside him and he could see it. The two of them together, happy, in this same place. He prayed she could see it too. 

“When my grandparents first bought this place, there was hardly anything here. The house they’d bought was this tiny little dump, with rotted wood and broken windows. Mom has pictures. It’s amazing how different it looks now. Nana told me they liked the land, and that’s why they bought it. That the trees and the grass were perfect. That the air smelled just right.”

She looked over at the man she loved. She’d never seen him like this. It was almost solemn. A solemn yearning for something he didn’t yet have. She leaned her head on his shoulder and said, “Will you tell me about them? Will you tell me about this place?”

He looked down at her, this woman he loved enough to bring here, to this sacred place. He was unafraid with her beside him, “I’ll tell you everything. It’s a long story though.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight, “Don’t worry. We have time.”

He kissed her temple and her eyes fell closed. She looked out at the garden and said, “How did they first meet?” 

“Well. He fell flat on his face in front of her.”

—

You weren’t sure if he’d noticed you, but you’d long since noticed him. You’d sit everyday at the picnic table by the cherry blossom trees. You could see the pond from where you sat, with it’s geese and frogs and lily pads. In the distance, where the birch trees grew, you could hear the sound of woodpeckers. It was the world’s most perfect spot. 

You were a teacher, and so most days, after you changed out of your work clothes and went home to get a snack, you’d come sit in the park. You’d grade your papers there, watch the geese float in the water. The local geese were familiar with you now. They’d sit by you sometimes during the week, though mostly they kept their distance. On Sundays though, they’d flock to the shoreline when they saw you coming. You’d bring a big bag of rice and corn, and spread it across the ground. Sometimes they’d eat right out of your hand, especially Mister and Lady Goose. You’d fed them as goslings, and years later, they’d sit by your feet as you fed their goslings. You loved them, and you loved that park. 

There we other picnic tables scattered throughout the park and around the pond, benches and lights lined the pathways. There were always people about, and that was how you first saw him. He ran through the park everyday. Morning and afternoon. You’d see him Sunday mornings while you fed the geese, and weekday afternoons while you graded. You’d watch him, hair tied back, long sleeved shirt. He was always sweating. His shirts were long, but he didn’t wear gloves. You paid enough attention to him to realize he had a prosthetic arm. He wasn’t trying to hide it completely, but he didn’t want to call attention to it either. It made you wish the world was kinder. Maybe then he’d be less afraid to show himself. 

He’d noticed you of course. How could he not? You were there everyday, and were half the reason he kept running through that park, even though the path was old and cracking, raised in some parts, and not great if your goal was speed. Fortunately, his goal, at least by the pond, was a leisurely jog. The longer he jogged by the longer he could see you. Sometimes he’d stop there, drink some water, as if he really needed a water break, and pretend to take in the scenery before he went on his way. 

You were usually working on something. Writing on papers, though he never knew what exactly. You were so beautiful and you didn’t even know it. Alone at that picnic table, you’d laugh out loud at something that you were reading. You’d put your face in your hands when it was really bad, shake your head before you continued writing. Sometimes a gust of wind would blow through the trees, and the cherry blossoms, and petals would swirl around you like you were their very center of gravity. You’d sometimes look up from your work, and watch the petals fall into the pond. You didn’t even notice the way they fell at your feet like an offering, and decorated your hair like they’d been destined to land there. You looked like a scene in a movie.

On Sundays, you’d feed the geese. This was amazing to him, not only because you’d get so close to those horrifying birds, but because you’d pet them too, paying no mind to the absurd amount of geese droppings you had to step around. The goslings would nuzzle at your feet, while their parents ate out of your hand. You weren’t like anything he’d ever seen.

The day you and Bucky met, it was a Friday afternoon. The sun fell softly across the pond and you didn’t have any work to do. You sat there, picking the cantaloupe out of your fruit cup so you could save the best for last, and reading a book on your phone. You could hear his steps as he came around the corner, and though you were usually pretty discreet, for the first time, you accidentally made eye contact. You were looking at him, and by God he was looking at you, and neither of you could stop. But with all his attention on you, he had no awareness of where he was going. He tripped right over the raised concrete and fell smack on his face, barely catching himself in time. 

“Holy shit,” As soon as you saw him fall, you were out of your seat running over to him. He rolled over, groaning, hands holding onto his scraped up face.

“Oh my god, are you okay? You’re okay right? Oh goodness, lemme see please.” You grabbed onto his wrists and slowly pulled his hands away from his face. You could feel a little bit of resistance, but could also tell he was letting you do it. 

He was a little scraped up, but looked mostly fine. The words slipped out as he said, “God, you’re even prettier up close.”

You felt your face heat up. Nobody had ever said anything to you quite as sweet as that. He groaned again, pulling his hands back up to cover his face.

“Is this as embarrassing as it feels?” His voice came through muffled underneath his hands.

You smiled so bright and said, “Maybe a little, but it’s working in your favor. If it’s any consolation, I find it pretty charming.”

He pulled his hands away, looked up at you and said, “I can work with charming.”

You rolled your eyes at that and said, “That’s the line you’re going with? Really?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, not my best work.” 

You shook your head, “No kidding.” 

You stood up, and reached you hand down to help him up. He didn’t need the assistance, but he thought it was sweet of you to offer. You wiggled your fingers and said, “Well come on then, Prince Charming, time to get up.”

Once he was standing he brushed himself off and said, “So, Princess, what do you say?”

You were confused, “What do I say about what?” 

“Sunday morning. Right about here. I’ll bring the coffee and cinnamon rolls?” He was a little nervous, but something in him just told him this was _right_.

You looked at him for a minute, arms folded across your chest. You’d hardly spoken, but somehow it already felt natural. Easy. Like when you run into a friend you haven’t seen for years, and fall right back into old patterns. Everything following a natural rhythm as if it had been that way all along. 

“Cream, two sugars. Bring lots of napkins”

He smiled at that, “See you then, Princess.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled as you two said goodbye, “You’re not really gonna stick with that nickname, are you? I mean, Princess? No originality. No flair.”

He barked out a laugh, “Okay. Alright. Listen, I see you in this park everyday. I have a nickname for all the park regulars. I can always call you that instead?”

“Oh God, is it even worse than Princess?”

“Maybe,” he said. “See you later, Chess.”

Your eyebrows and nose scrunched up in confusion, “Chess? I don’t play chess.”

He blushed, looked at his feet with a shy smile and said, “Well not chess like, chess chess. Chess like Duchess. Y'know cause, when the blossoms blow in the wind, and you’re sitting over at your table, it’s kinda like that scene from the movie y'know? The Aristocats? When O’Malley shakes the blossoms off the tree and they fall all pretty around Duchess. I thought that was kinda what you looked like, so.”

Your eyes were glassy, and you clenched your jaw to keep the tears from falling. No one had ever made you feel so beautiful. In a burst of courage, you leaned up and kissed his cheek, “See you Sunday, O’Malley. I’ll be waiting.”

— 

“So that’s why there’s a Cherry Blossom Tree in the front yard?” She asked.

He looked out over the backyard and said, “Once the house was built, it was the first thing they did. There are pictures of Nana at the plant nursery, with this little tree in a pot. It was maybe five feet tall, a little bigger maybe, when they planted it. It’s been growing well over sixty years now. Closer to seventy maybe, not too sure on the math if I’m being honest.”

“Well what about the rest of this place? There’s so much here.”

“Nana used to say you could travel the Earth and never find somewhere with as much love as this place. When I was a kid I thought that of course there had to be somewhere else, but now that I’m older. Now that I’m back here, in this place, I know she’s right.”

He breathed in deep, wishing his grandmother were here to tell her the stories instead, “You see the gazebo?” He asked. “That gazebo is the reason this place happened the way it did.”

— 

It was quiet in your bedroom. In the late hours of the night, a Nuwave Air Fryer infomercial played in the background. The tv was muted, but with your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat was all you needed. 

Bucky’s prosthetic was wrapped around your waist, and the cool of the metal was a nice contrast to his body heat. With his other hand, his fingertips drew lines on your back. That behavior, rhythmic and comforting, like the beat of his heart. The assurance that came with the feel of his fingers tracing up and down and back up again in time.

This was all you’d ever wanted. This peace that came from laying beside someone you loved wholly and entirely. Someone who loved you back. In that bed, in that moment, a sort of quietude took root. You had grown so used to the cruelty of men that to be shown such raw love, such unashamed kindness, from this man brought to you an ease you’d never known. It was strange. It felt like it had always been this way. Like something inside of you always knew you would end up here. You knew he felt the same. 

“Hey, Chess?” He said, his voice fell over you like the comfort of a familiar blanket. 

“Yeah, Buck?” 

“It’s the same for you, right? You feel it the same?”

You patted his stomach, “Yeah, Buck. I do.”

His arm that ran up and down your back stopped for a minute. He took his hand, and turned your face up so you were looking at him, “Will you marry me?”

You smiled up at him. That sweet bedtime smile he was so fond of, “Only if you marry me back.”

The side of his mouth turned up, and he ran his hand through your hair, “Ok, I promise I will.”

You kissed his chest, and knew that this was right. Some people had grand proposals. Elaborate secrets, everything carefully timed, so someone could ask the person they love to be with them forever. And that’s beautiful – for them. It’s what’s right for their marriage, and for each other. But you didn’t want that, and neither did Buck. It felt right this way. The two of you, together as you would be always. You’d sleep like this every night for the rest of your lives, and it felt more special this way. Like there wasn’t a question at all. Like this was always how it would be. Like something inside of him always knew he would end up here. He knew you felt the same. 

He reached over with his hand to the nightstand, head turning as much as it could to see what he was doing, opened the drawer, and pulled out a little box. He opened it with one hand, and held the box close to you so you could get a good look. 

He felt his chest start to get wet, quiet tears falling down your face. You didn’t say anything, just kissed his chest again, and picked your left hand up off his stomach and held it up for him. He took the ring out of it box, and slipped it onto your finger. It fit just right.

He put the box back on his nightstand, and started running his fingers up and down your back again. You burrowed into him as close as your bodies would let you, “Let’s get a house, now. One with lots of windows.” 

You and Bucky had long since talked about what you wanted in the future. A house, somewhere quiet, but not too quiet. Kids, who would run around. Children who you could show everyday how beautiful this world could be. You’d take them to the park where you first met every Sunday, and feed the geese under the cherry blossoms. 

Bucky’s words came right in step with yours, “A big backyard, with lots of grass. When the kids come, me and Sam can build them a jungle gym.”

“With a swing set. I loved the swings when I was a kid. I still love the swings.”

Bucky nodded, “With a swing set.”

“We can have a wrap around porch. One with a porch swing, and we can sit on it together. Maybe we can grow a vegetable garden. With lots of basil and rosemary. Maybe hot peppers, and tomatoes. Behind it we can grow an apple tree. We’ll cook all the time, sometimes with the stuff we’ve grown ourselves.”

“I want a plum tree too. Some blueberry bushes. Or a strawberry patch in the front yard. And I want a big kitchen. Something nice, with all kinds of pots and pans, and a walk-in pantry. One day we’ll teach the kids to make cookies there.” Bucky said smiling.

“With granite countertops. The kind that you have to Windex to keep clean.”

It went quiet for a moment, before you spoke again, only a little hesitant this time, “What if we… What if we got married there? We could… We could build a gazebo in the backyard. Do it up with lights and flowers. Invite just the people we love. We’d get married right there. Maybe have our first dance inside there too, or something. That way there’d be nowhere more special than our home. We could sit on the steps of the back porch, and for the rest of our lives we’d look out at that gazebo and remember. We could dance there all the time and know that no place in the world had known more love. And one day, growing up with the pictures on the walls, having seen the old videos, one of our kids will want to get married there too. If we’re real lucky.”

You looked up at Bucky, after realizing you’d gone off on quite a fantastical tangent. He was already looking at you, silent tears rolling down his face. 

“Our wedding night could be the first night we spend in our new home. I’d carry you into the house. We could… we could plant a cherry blossom tree in the front yard.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile, and neither could he. He laughed through tears, too full of joy to keep it in. 

“I love you, James.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

— 

“Your grandparents really got married here?”

“Yeah. I can show you the pictures when we go back inside. I told you this place was a dump when they bought it. They had a lot of help fixing it up, but when they did, this was where they got married. Uncle Steve got married here too. So did Aunt Becca. Mom and Dad were never married, but that’s probably for the best, since they separated anyways. I wonder if mom knew it might happen. Didn’t want to taint this place.”

Your grandson took a moment to breathe before he kept talking, “Even with how mom and dad turned out though, I never doubted that love was real. So many of my friends who grew up with divorced parents came out of it so scarred. With this fear of love and marriage, like it was always destined to go wrong. But Nana and Grampy always loved each other. When we were little, we’d sleep over, and run around in the yard while they sat together on the porch. I can still hear their laughter echoing throughout the house. I rarely ever saw them argue. And mom says, when they got angry at each other when she was a kid, they’d walk away, and stay apart for the rest of the day. They’d dance in the gazebo that night, and mom says it was like the anger had never been there at all. Like, when they came back together in that place, they agreed to let it wash away with every step.”

“They must’ve been incredible.” She said in awe.

“They were. Not without their faults, of course, but they were really something,” he took a deep breath. “You know, Uncle Steve owns this place now. When Nana passed, Grampy couldn’t take it. They were both in their nineties, but Grampy had more years in him still. But without Nana it was like he didn’t wanna do it anymore. He wanted to be with her again so bad. But when I close my eyes, I can still feel them here. See them dancing, hear their laughter. I’d sit between them on the porch swing sometimes, and listen to them tell stories. It’s like, those stories are still in the walls. Just waiting for new ones to be created.”

He looked over at the woman he loved, and stood up with his hand held out. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“My favorite spot here,” he said.

—

Your kids were growing so fast. Steve was nearly 15 now and it all felt so strange and wonderful to see them grow. Becca had just turned 13, and your youngest, Winnie, turned ten not long after. It hurt in the best way possible, and there was nothing that could have prepared you for that feeling. 

You and Bucky sat on the porch swing, looking out at your Cherry Blossom. It was so big now. It would keep growing of course, but compared to the little thing it was when you first got it, you could hardly believe what it had become. Where had the time gone?

You curled into Bucky and sat quietly. Music played over your speakers, softly in the background, and he hummed along. 

“Hey, Buck. I got a stupid idea. You on board?” You looked up at him, mischief on your mind.

“Always, Chess.”

“Okay, stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You went through the front door, giggling. Steve was sitting on the couch as you passed through the living room, and for some reason, it made you feel like you’d been caught. 

“Mom, what are you doing?”

You slowed your pace and said, “Nothing. Mind your business, nosey butt.”

You made it into the kitchen, and began giggling again. You went to where your purse sat on the counter, and rummaged around till you found your pocket knife. 

Walking back outside, trying to appear very normal as you passed a very suspicious Steve in the living room, you sat back down on the swing. You flicked open the knife and looked at Bucky with the smile that always meant trouble, “Ready?”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him, and he laughed at you, “What the hell do you plan on doing with that?”

You closed the knife for the time being, grabbed his hand, and said, “Just follow me, Buck.”

He shook his head as you dragged him up and over to the Cherry Blossom tree, where you opened your knife again. 

He leaned against the side of the tree watching you as you began to carve a heart into the bark, “Are you seriously carving out initials into this tree like we’re a pair of pre-teens.”

You smiled at him, “Obviously.”

He shook his head, but looked at you like you were the moon, “You are so impossibly dumb.”

You laughed at that, “Yeah, I know. Married you didn’t I?”

He rolled his eyes as if annoyed, but you knew better, “Ha ha, you’re so funny.” 

You had finished the heart and began carving your initials. When you finished, you handed Bucky the knife, and he carved his own. When he finished he closed the knife, and kissed you softly.

Inside, Steve, knowing something was up had called his sisters. All three kids sat watching from the front window. Once you kissed, they all pulled away rolling their eyes. Winnie said, “Do they _always_ have to do that?”

Steve shrugged, “Better that than the opposite, I guess.”

Becca nodded, “Still gross though.”

“Oh, yeah definitely,” Steve said. “Definitely gross.”

Outside, you and your husband looked at each other. In that moment, it was all you needed. 

—

“See, look,” Your grandson said standing underneath the blossom branches. “I used to come out here as a kid, and trace my fingers along their initials. Nana told me she thought it was like something out of an old movie. I just thought it was special.”

He watched as the woman he loved traced her fingers gently around the heart and over its letters, “It’s beautiful.”

The wind blew by, and the petals fell from the trees. He knew, this is what his grandpa felt when he saw his grandma in the park. He understood why he called her Chess right up to the day she died. Cause right here, right now, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen looked up at the petals as they fell. She looked ethereal. Blissful. Soft and dreamy. Just like Duchess.

She was too busy looking at the petals to notice him drop to one knee. When the wind finally stopped and she went to look at the love of her life, she froze. There he was, so handsome, down on one knee. Her hand came over her mouth as he said, “I love you so much. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything, and if you let me, I’ll love you till the day I die… Uncle Steve agreed to sell me this house. We could live here, if you want. Get married, just like my grandparents. There would be so much love here. I want to share it with you, if you’ll let me.”

She fell to her knees, kissed him fiercely, and without an ounce of hesitation said, “Yes.”


End file.
